


Control

by Mackem



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Bondage, Dom/sub, Hair Kink, Hair Pulling, M/M, Rope Bondage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-04
Updated: 2014-04-04
Packaged: 2018-01-18 04:58:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1415908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mackem/pseuds/Mackem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rope is never in short supply in the garrison, though if Porthos keeps misappropriating it for the purposes of sex, it soon will be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Control

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dairyme](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dairyme/gifts).



> The Musketeers fandom has made me realise I have a thing for hair pulling. I've _always_ had a thing for bondage and dom/sub scenarios. It seemed daft not to combine the two. [Dairyme](http://archiveofourown.org/users/dairyme) shouted at me until I ficlet'd.

Rope is never in short supply in the garrison, though if Porthos keeps misappropriating it for the purposes of sex, it soon will be.

Aramis’ hands are bound at the small of his back, the knots simple but effective. 

Sometimes Porthos will devote hours to the act of tying him up, wrapping him in intricate knots and loops designed to show him off. Aramis loves it, basks in the attention as Porthos turns him into a work of art, something to be displayed and admired. 

He _also_ loves the times when Porthos decides he has no patience for anything but the simplest of knots. Rough hands strip him, position him as Porthos wants, and waste no time considering what will look prettiest as they bind him. 

Really, Aramis just loves Porthos’ attention on him. He’ll take anything and everything Porthos can offer, and give his entire self in return.

The rope burns pleasantly around his wrists. Aramis closes his eyes and focuses on the sensation. It helps him concentrate; he is always eager to please, but the temptation to surge up and claim Porthos’ lips with a hungry kiss is hard to ignore. There is pleasure to be had in doing as he is told, but there is just as much to be found in disobeying and earning a punishment.

Today, he decides after a moment of thought, he will be a good boy. 

_Mostly_.

He focuses on settling his breathing and keeping himself where he’s been placed. Porthos always refuses to proceed until he’s sure Aramis is in the right mindset, despite his impatience, so he does his best to settle into the depths hidden inside his head. He keeps his eyes closed and his head bowed as he breathes deeply, hyper aware of the man standing before him. Porthos is not touching him, but Aramis can feel his gaze like a brand on his bare flesh.

Eventually, as he feels himself sinking low in his own mind, his eyelids flutter open. Porthos keeps watching him closely, standing in Aramis’ personal space like he belongs there; Aramis stares at his boots, legs spread either side of his knees, not close enough to touch. The temptation to shift closer to him is strong, but he maintains his pose until strong fingers take hold of his chin, raising it up to meet Porthos’ eyes with his own helpless gaze. 

Porthos stares into his eyes. After a moment he nods and releases his chin, satisfies with whatever he sees. Aramis suspects his pupils are blown wide; Porthos had fucked him opposite a mirror once, making him watch as he was taken, and Aramis had stared into his own eyes and marvelled at the way his irises had all but disappeared in his ecstasy.

Aramis can follow orders with the best of them when he wants, but his patience is not unlimited. Porthos waits until he is shifting restlessly on his knees to strike. 

A large hand slides through his hair, fingertips scratching lightly at his scalp. It is pleasant, but not what Aramis wants. He cannot stop the pleading whine that escapes him; Porthos’ eyes _gleam_ at the sound of it.

The fingers tighten in his hair, his grip slowly increasing until it is just bordering on painful, straddling the pain-pleasure line effortlessly. 

Aramis loves Porthos taking control of him, but as much as he enjoys it, he is too stubborn to give it up easily. He also knows Porthos loves being made to work for it. So he tries to pull away, a brief moment of disobedience designed to make things fun for the both of them.

He has barely moved before he is _yanked_ back, yelping as Porthos mercilessly keeps him in his place. Aramis’ body is no longer his own to control, and by God, does he adore that. His cock swells appreciatively, and his teeth worry his lower lip as Porthos laughs, the sound dark and mocking. Aramis is helpless to stop the whimper that is torn from his lips as he squirms, prick hard from nothing but rope at his wrists and a firm grip on his hair.

“Trying to escape?” Porthos asks with teasing tugs of his hair that leave Aramis wide-eyed and gasping. His hips rock helplessly with every sharp pulse of pain. “You know that isn’t going to happen.” Porthos effortlessly guides Aramis’ head back and keeps him there, exposing the vulnerable line of his neck. His free hand fits perfectly around his throat, resting there, not squeezing but present, both a threat and a promise.

Porthos grins wickedly at the sight of him, trembling on his knees, pliant and panting and _his_ to use. “Now,” he muses as he shifts even closer, “what _will_ I do with you?”


End file.
